


but the story is this

by dreamsoverdeath (dheiress)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Miscommunication, Porn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:48:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22319653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dheiress/pseuds/dreamsoverdeath
Summary: Jaskier is seven when the words "white wolf" appear on his wrist.Geralt was four, much younger when it should be, when his soul mark manifested.Yennefer is twenty now and still her wrist where a soulmark should have bloomed when she turned seven remained blank, a barren wasteland not worthy of anyone.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 7
Kudos: 122





	but the story is this

**Author's Note:**

> This is a mess. I, for one, choose not to believe the Netflix released timeline.

but the story is this

* * *

Jaskier is seven when the words "white wolf" appear on his wrist.

He scratches at the words, nails bitten down to the quick only worsening the itch on his skin. An uncontrollable urge possesses him and he does not stop his fingers.

Scritch, scratch they go, scritch scratch.

Hours later, his mother comes upon him like that, scratching and scratching, and she screams first at his bloody flesh. Then she screams louder at his soul mark.

(The year was 1230, words travelled fast and for this particular day the most resounding words his mother heard were these: Beware of Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken.)

* * *

He was four, much younger when it should be, when his soul mark manifested.

It was a slow process, starting with what he thought was a speck of dirt which grew into a patch of Earth where flowers steadily sprouted. His young self marveled at the colors, gold and lilac and green twining into a tapestry of colors above his beating pulse. His mother smiled at him when he showed her, when the flowers had stopped growing and settled into a sea of colors.

"You are a lucky boy," she said as she wrapped linen around his wrist, "care for them but don't let them overgrow, my love, lest they strangle you in your sleep."

(During the Trials, the little golden ones are the first to die and Geralt's tears fall with each one. The lilac ones remain long enough for him to hope they will endure but at the end, when his hair has turn white, his eyes amber and his skin deathly pale, nothing is left but the patch of Earth where colors once stood.

Bitterly, Geralt thinks his mark is a perfect reflection of his soul - a living graveyard of lost things.)

* * *

She is twenty now and still her wrist where a soulmark should have bloomed when she turned seven remained blank, a barren wasteland not worthy of anyone. 

Her mother and sisters look upon her with pity, her father with gleeful contempt that needs no words to say, "Of course, how can an abomination have a match?" Not long after, she will be sold at four marks, a haggle that didn't even last a minute.

(She is more or less thirty, strapped naked onto the enchanter's chair, rage at the betrayal simmering inside her entire being. _No matter_ , she thinks vehemently as her scars--the two lines of puckered flesh the only marks that graced her wrist--glistened with her sweat and the fire's reflection, _I will make my own mark_.)


End file.
